Captivity
by ChocolatStar
Summary: Voldermort and his Death Eaters have won the war and taken prisoners. Hermione is among them. She has not seen Ron or Harry since the battle. All seems lost, until she meets a rather unusual Death Eater...
1. Practice

_Right then - Hi everybody! I've written a new story =) I've actually hand written pretty much all of it already, and now I'm just transferring it to PC and editing it. _

_This is a bit of a dark one. It's a What If kind of story. It's based on if Voldermort and his Death Eaters had won The Battle Of Hogwarts and not Harry and co. And I know it's been done before - I know that - but here's hoping that you guys might see something new and/or interesting in this one. Also, it's told from Hermione's point of view mainly, just generally because she's my favourite character to work with. _

_I hope you guys all like it =) _

Captivity - Chapter One - Practice 

"_Ron!" commanded Hermione in what she'd like to think was an authoritative tone. "Ron, I'm warning you!" _

_She screamed, leaping backwards as a jet of water shot towards her. "Ron! I'm serious - don't you dare -" _

_But Ron had that mischievous look on his face. The look that told Hermione that he wouldn't be giving up easily - and that she would be getting wet. He was smiling broadly and creeping forwards like a lion in the savannah. "Come on Hermione. Accept your fate. It'll be so much easier if you just stand still." _

"_Honestly Ron," spluttered Hermione, dodging a few more spurts of water. "Stop being so childish!" The statement was somewhat ruined however, when Hermione let out an amused little yelp, turned and ran away from Ron._

"_Aw, I'm not running, Hermione," she heard him moan, as she belted around to the picnic blanket they had laid out on the edge of the Black Lake. She glanced at Harry, who was lying on his side, staring strangely at a kiwi fruit. _

"_Fruit shouldn't be hairy," he mumbled absently, before turning his head around to Hermione. "Having fun are you?" He smirked good naturedly and Hermione returned it. _

_She noticed that Ron was slowly making his way towards them. "Ron's trying to get me, but he forgets who he's messing with." She moved a few sandwiches still wrapped up in clingfilm in order to obtain her wand. "Ah ha!" she cried triumphantly. "Right, we'll just see who's going to make who wet now, shall we?" _

_Harry raised his eyebrows. "Have I ever told you how much I like you, Hermione?" _

"_Duly noted," said Hermione slyly. She turned from Harry and pointed her wand at the fast approaching Ron. He stopped dead. _

"_Not so tough now huh, tough guy," Hermione quipped, quirking her lip. _

"_Yeah - come on Ron," came Harry's encouragement from the picnic blanket. _

_Ron didn't look so certain anymore. "Yeah. Right. Alright. Ag - Aguamenti!" _

"_Impervius!" cried Hermione, sending Ron's blast of water straight back at him. He spluttered and coughed, shaking out his now dripping clothing. _

_Harry and Hermione howled with laughter. _

"_Yeah alright," he muttered, wiping at his face as water dribbled down from his nose. "Let you do that, didn't I?" _

"_Right," laughed Hermione. "Very - um, gentlemanly of you Ronald." _

_Ron shrugged, as if saying 'can I help it if that's just who I am?' _

_That's when she heard them. _

_The roars and stampeding footsteps of many - suddenly very loud and all around them. Somewhere, not too distant, something exploded. Hermione backed up, wand uselessly slack in her hand and heart hammering. _

"_We need to leave!" she cried. "We need to go now!" _

_But Ron and Harry, looking so tranquil in the sun, were in no hurry. They were joking - slapping each other on the shoulders and slowly unwrapping the sandwiches. _

_Hermione felt like she was falling. Her world had become dreamlike and she felt as if she were seeing through someone else's eyes. She didn't understand how they could remain so calm. He was coming. She knew it. "We need to go!" she cried again, but it came out sounding very quiet and strangely distorted. _

_A smiling Ron and Harry waved Hermione over, seeming not to have heard or cared for her warnings. She needed to make them understand - but it was too late. Voldermort had arrived. He swooped to the ground like some terrible, deformed eagle and then stood, glaring at the scene before him. _

"_Harry Potter," he hissed. Harry looked up. His smile vanished, eyes growing horribly wide. _

"_You're not meant to have won," said Harry, in a choked whisper. "We were. The good side always wins." _

"_Not this time," said Voldermort. "To the Boy Who Lived I say that it ends here." _

_Voldermort raised his wand and Hermione rushed forward with no thought or desire other than to save Harry. "HARRY!" _

- Hermione, eyes snapping open, heard the footsteps before she was even fully aware of her reality. Cold metal was pressing against her cheek. She sat up, reasoning that she must have fallen asleep against the bars of her cell. She stared down the dark walkway outside. Someone was coming.

Instinctively, Hermione pulled back to crouch in the relative safety of the shadows. As she sat cowering - waiting - she was reminded of how very far away she was from the wilful young girl she had once been. _That_ Hermione wouldn't be hiding. But _that_ Hermione hadn't yet been beaten to within an inch of her life for insolence - and it was quite amazing what isolation could do to a person.

A Death Eater stopped outside and peered through the bars at her. His hulking form caused even more shadow to fall across the huddled Hermione and her heart began to pound madly.

"Mudblood," he said gruffly. It was all she had been called for the last six months. She barely remembered her true name anymore. "Come here."

The old Hermione would have held her ground, hopefully forcing the Death Eater to have to come in and get her; she would have hit him with everything she had and then ran for it…but that wasn't her anymore. Instead, she got up to her feet and stumbled forward obediently. Hermione was far removed from any illusion of escape.

The Death Eater had pulled out his wand and flicked it, causing the usual handcuffs to materialise. They travelled between the bars of Hermione's cell and locked themselves tightly around her wrists. She had quickly learnt with this task that the more you struggled, the more it hurt - and that the handcuffs would always find their mark, through any means possible.

It was much easier to cooperate…which, incidentally, seemed to have become her motto.

"You're needed," continued the Death Eater.

Hermione wasn't fast enough to stop her curious tongue from asking, "Needed for what?" It was strange to hear her own voice. It had been some time since she'd spoken and it sounded horribly strained and croaky as a result. Speaking to people on a day to day basis had been just one more thing she'd taken for granted in her free life.

The Death Eater's eyes flashed. Hermione flinched, preparing herself for the inevitable lashing punishment, but it seemed the Death Eater thought better of this, because the next thing Hermione knew was her cell door being opened and herself being hauled out and forced down the walkway.

She kept her head low as she passed the surrounding cells. She dared not meet any whose eyes may be staring out at her; Hermione knew what she'd find in those eyes, because she felt it too - pain, fear, desolation.

"You're due at the Training Hall," the Death Eater muttered suddenly.

Hermione didn't want to push her luck by asking what that meant, and so continued on in silence, pausing only when a Dementor crossed her path. That empty, cold hopelessness they brought was a familiar feeling for Hermione; the Dementors patrolled the prison - Azkaban prison - as they had before Lord Voldermort's rule. It seemed they cared little for loyalty as long as their unquenchable hunger was appeased. It was usual to hear the howls of terror coming from neighbouring cells as its captive was slowly drained; Hermione often sat, hugging her knees and listening, terrified of the day when a Dementor would sail over to her door looking for a soul.

The 'Training Hall' was filled with people and yet deathly quiet. A few felt brave enough to whisper amongst themselves but most just stared forward with wide, terrified eyes or, more worriedly, glazed, indifferent ones.

Everyone was bound with the same handcuffs that she wore. Hermione was shoved into one group before her Death Eater left. She gazed at all the faces around her, noting that there were many children much younger than herself mixed in, but no one looked the slightest bit familiar. Her heart dropped. Hermione knew it was foolish but she still clung to the hope that Harry and Ron had survived and that she'd find them one day. She would have been glad to see anyone she had once known.

Quite abruptly, one of the young boys of the group turned to her. Behind all the grime and caked-on blood, Hermione could see that he must have been no older than ten or eleven. His wide, blue eyes gazed at her, having seen much too much for his age. Far too much.

For a moment, he did nothing but stare and when the boy did finally speak it was in a voice so distant and cheerless that Hermione was sure it couldn't have come from such an innocent child. "Can you help us?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, no."

"But I know who you are!" he said accusingly. "I'm sure of it!"

"I can't help anyone," Hermione mumbled, hating the truth of her own words.

"Please…you have to help us," choked the boy and then, much louder, "You have to!"

"I'm sorry, I -"

"You must!" he cried, suddenly shouting and then, to Hermione's horror, he began to back up away from the crowd, arms outstretched, all the time screaming, "Help us please! Help us!" over and over again.

"Hey!" shouted one of the Death Eaters. "Be quiet over there!"

"Please," hissed Hermione urgently. "Come back over here."

But the boy seemed beyond reason and continued to scream.

"I said shut up!" demanded the Death Eater, turning fully around.

"Please! Please!" he cried.

The flash of green light hit the boy before Hermione had even registered that it had been cast. He crumpled to the floor instantly and lay there quite still, finally silenced.

Anyone who had been talking stopped immediately. Hermione just stared, eyes filling with tears and breath ragged.

"Right! Line up then you scum!" barked another Death Eater, as if nothing had happened, which, Hermione knew to the Death Eaters, nothing had.

Everyone did as they were told, quickly shuffling into line. Upon doing this, a whole mass of Death Eaters swarmed into the room. They came forward towards the prisoners, many stepping over the young boy's body with barely a glance. Up and down the line they went - appraising each captive as if they were nothing more than cattle. Hermione couldn't take their scrutiny and instead chose to look down at her shoeless feet. Minutes passed and Hermione sensed, rather than saw, someone approach and stop in front of her.

"Look at me," commanded a strong, authoritative voice.

There was something strangely familiar about it, so much so that it forced Hermione to look up in curiosity - only to be disappointed. There was nothing recognisable in the face that stared back at her. He was a tall man, broad shouldered and fit-looking, with a mop of thick, black, untidy hair, which looked bizarrely unnatural on his head, as if it had just been placed there as an afterthought. He also looked fairly young - late twenties if Hermione were to guess. It was his eyes that really caught Hermione's attention though - brilliant green. He would have been almost attractive had he not been an evil Death Eater out to do inevitable harm.

The Death Eater's eyes widened momentarily. Hermione swore that she caught something in them - but it was gone before she could be sure and she was left feeling oddly confused.

"I choose you," he said gruffly.

Hermione wanted to retort that she was a human being and not his to choose, but many long months in Azkaban had taught her to hold her tongue.

"My name is Arden Marwick. But you can address me as 'Sir.'"

Hermione, having got use to rough treatment, couldn't fathom these pleasantries, and almost fell over when asked, "And yours is?"

She merely stared at him, untrusting, having no clue why this was all necessary.

"Answer me."

"See you've picked the Mudblood then, Marwick?" said a Death Eater as he came over, clapping Marwick on the shoulder. "Got a taste for em,' eh?" He laughed, fully expecting Marwick to join in it seemed, as when he didn't the Death Eater's expression grew foul and he glared nastily at Hermione. "Couldn't stand the filthy blood myself," he muttered. "Wouldn't want any of it getting on me after I gave her a good lashing, you know?"

Marwick said nothing and the Death Eater moved off, chuckling to himself.

"Well, he seems to find himself funny at least," mumbled Marwick. Hermione wasn't sure if this was meant to be directed at her or not, but, either way, he said nothing else, merely grabbing Hermione's wrist and dragging her over to the centre of the hall, where, Hermione noticed, many other Death Eaters stood - each grasping the arm of a prisoner.

As the straggling Death Eaters joined the throng with their chosen captives in tow, Yaxley came to stand at the front of the crowd. Hermione glared at him, hoping her sheer hatred of the man was enough to make his head spontaneously explode. He had been the one to catch her in the end. She winced as she remembered her wand being snapped in two and Yaxley's twisted face staring down at her, grinning in sick triumph.

"Death Eaters in training," he began importantly, wrenching Hermione back to bitter reality. "I welcome you. You have succeeded where others have…met their untimely demise." At this he gave a sinister smile and a few Death Eaters jeered their approval. "It seems that our Lord has seen something in all of you. Let his judgement not be in vain. Let you not disappoint him." He paused, letting the threat of his words sink in. "Now then - to business. Our Lord has graciously allowed you to learn the most darkest of magic. He has shown you all how to unlock great power - and now he offers you this _filth_ to practise your arts upon."

Yaxley continued on with his speech, but Hermione heard no more. Her blood had run cold at the word 'practice.' She looked up in panic at Marwick, but he appeared too intent on Yaxley to notice her.

Everyone was suddenly moving - the Death Eaters dragging their terrified quarry with them. Hermione felt a tug on her wrist and fought against it, but Marwick was much stronger and dragged her down the hall, before stopping, forcing her to stand in place and then backing away.

"If you move from the space your Death Eater has put you in you will die…slowly," warned Yaxley.

Hermione could have laughed. Dying wasn't quite the threat it should have been when the only other option was insufferable pain. The Death Eaters would use them until they died anyway. And yet, knowing this, Hermione still stood rooted in her spot, her terrified breathing filling her head and muffling out any thought of escape. The other captives were all looking wildly around at each other in panic. Hermione didn't know what to do. Everything was going too quickly - she needed time to think. But her breathing was too loud, the terror on the faces around her too much - she couldn't seem to react.

A roar of 'CRUCIO!' sounded - the curse coming from the mouths of a hundred Death Eaters. People were suddenly screaming and dropping everywhere. They grasped at the air - their bodies shuddering in terrible, uncontrollable spasms. Hermione looked over to Marwick, eyes widening as she watched him raise his wand.

_Right so, love it? Hate it? Bothered in any way at all? Let me know. Update to follow soon. _


	2. The Oddities of Arden Marwick

_So here we are with the second chapter of Captivity. Make of it what you will :)__ And thank you for all the comments last chapter, they are hugely appreciated. _

Captivity_Chapter Two_The Oddities of Arden Marwick

There was no time to react. Hermione snapped her eyes shut, trying to mentally prepare herself as best she could for the coming agony. She had experienced the curse before - it was a Death Eater's favourite trick - but that made no difference. A person could never get used to it.

A great force suddenly pushed her backwards, catapulting Hermione through the air and slamming her to the ground. She remained there, staring up at the ceiling, mind fuzzy as her fellow captives continued to scream terribly around her. It took Hermione a few seconds to realise that she hadn't been hit with 'Crucio.' Or at least not a successful attempt of it.

She propped herself up onto her elbows. Her vision whirled horribly for a moment, but it quickly passed and Hermione saw that Yaxley had come over to Marwick and was talking quite heatedly with him. He regarded Marwick with a glare that was nothing sort of disgusted.

"You have to _mean_ it!" Yaxley cried. "You have to _want_ that Mudblood to hurt. You know how this works! Now do it again. Stop playing around and _hurt _her!"

Marwick's shoulders seemed to slump for a second, an almost undetectable movement, before he steeled himself and began walking towards Hermione. Marwick was already a very tall man, but from the ground he appeared Giant-sized and Hermione resisted the urge to cower as he stooped next to her and dragged her roughly to her feet.

"Please," pleaded Hermione, gazing into his eyes. "Please. Don't do this."

It was a stupid, foolish thing to beg for mercy from a Death Eater. Hermione knew that and she winced at the fierce glare her words received. He yanked Hermione forwards, extremely close to him, and for one wild moment Hermione thought he was going to bite her neck, but instead he put his mouth up very close to her ear and whispered, "Pretend I'm hurting you. Pretend you're in pain."

He gave her a significant look, before turning and marching back to his spot.

Hermione stared after him in absolute confusion. She didn't understand. Was this some kind of trick? A sick game to play on the prisoners?

She frowned, watching him raise his wand again. What was he playing at?

She heard Marwick cry the words 'Crucio!,' saw the concentration line his face and yet Marwick's heart obviously wasn't in it, as Hermione felt nothing. No pain. Not even a twinge of discomfort. And if Hermione knew only one thing about the Cruciatus Curse is was that the wielder needed to want his victim to suffer. The very fact that Marwick didn't, baffled Hermione, yet she didn't hesitate to follow her orders, and dropped to the ground in a series of screams and spasms. In between her Oscar winning performance, Hermione cracked open an eye to see Yaxley appraise Marwick with a satisfactory nod.

Many gruelling hours later, Hermione was led back to her cell.

A countless number had not survived the training. She'd seen bodies everywhere as they had exited the hall, but dared not look at any one of them too closely. She couldn't take the truth of knowing that someone she loved may have been among the dead.

She was currently feigning a limp. Hermione had to keep up appearances. Every few steps she'd stumble, causing the Death Eater leading her to sigh and shove her forward, demanding that she 'move on, Mudblood."

Hermione spent most of that night mussing over Marwick. Throughout those hours of training he had pretended to curse her and she had pretended to get hit by them. And of course she was relieved that she hadn't been seriously tortured, but _why_ hadn't she? How was it that a _Death Eater_ was so concerned for her safety? Did he just have a weak stomach? It made no sense and nonsense drove Hermione mad.

She tossed and turned all night, and for once, it wasn't because of the cold, stone floor.

Hermione was awoken the next morning by the squeaking of her cell door. She opened her eyes, blinking against the light, to find a Death Eater bringing her breakfast - which was possibly one of the strangest things she had ever seen. Hermione sat up, feeling the bones in her neck click. The Death Eater shoved the bowl of whatever it was at Hermione, who looked down at it wearily.

It was very irregularly that she was fed - just enough so that she wasn't constantly collapsing in hunger - and though her stomach roared at the prospect of food, she was very suspicious of anything offered to her by a Death Eater.

Apparently, Hermione took far too long weighing her options, as the Death Eater quickly became impatient. He grunted in annoyance, put the bowl on the floor and left.

"I'd eat that if I were you, filthy Mudblood. You'll need all the strength you can get," he muttered ominously through her bars. "If it was up to me, you'd get nothing. Don't know why the hell they're feeding you."

But Hermione did. It was to keep their test subjects somewhat healthy so that they might survive a few more good curses. It was very demanding work being tortured after all - wouldn't want anyone passing out before the Death Eater's had had their fun. Hermione thought on this darkly.

After such a realisation, she did eat, but extremely grudgingly.

Hermione was later led back down to the training hall. It was as full to the brim of terrified faces as it was yesterday, despite all of the fatalities. It made Hermione shudder. They were fodder. Nothing more. Casualties occurred and there were more than enough prisoners to fill the void.

Hermione's eyes did their usual dance for familiar faces within the crowd. It had become habit - but it was that hope of actually finding someone that kept her going most days. Her scan of the room was interrupted however. She had found something, but it wasn't Harry or Ron. She let out a gasp of horror. All the bodies from yesterday's torture session were piled up high against the far wall. Hermione wanted to look away as soon as she had glimpsed it, but she couldn't - disobedient eyes slid uncontrollably over broken limbs and battered bodies that were crushed together as if stones in a wall.

The message was very clear - resistance was futile and death was the only way out.

Only when Hermione sensed a presence did she wrench her gaze away. Marwick was standing in front of her. He briefly looked over to the mass of corpses. Hermione noticed the way his brow furrowed.

"You still haven't told me your name," he said suddenly.

Hermione said nothing, cautious of this man with his politeness and aversion to causing her pain.

The Death Eater who had clapped Marwick on the shoulder yesterday was glaring over at them. Hermione quickly looked to the floor.

"You must really like dirty blood," he said nastily, moving over to them.

Marwick shrugged. "What can I say Derille? She survived. And I find the best training subjects are the ones that don't die too quickly, wouldn't you say?"

Derille grunted, possibly in agreement, possibly because he'd used up his entire vocabulary insulting Hermione.

"Still," he muttered. "I've been watching you. You talk to this filth as if they're equal to us."

"Maybe you shouldn't underestimate your victims," replied Marwick. "If we've learnt anything from the Dark Lord it is surely that."

Derille's eyes flashed dangerously. "You _dare_ speak of our Lord in such a way!" he snarled, before, in a much quieter voice, "There's something not right about you, Marwick."

"And there'll be something not right about your already unappealing face in a minute, if you carry on with these accusations!" snapped Marwick. He stood straighter, glaring down at the much shorter Derille. "I have more than proved my loyalty to our Lord. What I am stating is pure fact, and a lesson that we shouldn't soon forget."

Hermione noticed that Yaxley was standing to one side wearing an impassive expression, but seeming quite content to let the argument escalate.

"You've got quite a mouth on you," sneered Derille. "Let's not see if I can curse it off of that slimy face of yours, eh?"

A small crowd had gathered by this point, all watching as Derille withdrew his wand and screamed, "Cru -"

"Expelliarmus!"

Derille's wand flew from his hand and he stood there, blinking stupidly.

Marwick smirked, replacing his own wand into his cloak pocket.

"Rather disarm than curse!" sneered Derille, snatching up his discarded wand and glaring at the wooden point as if it was its fault he had lost the duel. "As I said - there's something not right about you."

As Derille skulked off to lick his wounded pride and the crowd quickly dispersed, grumbling in disappointment that there had been no loss of limbs, Hermione found herself speaking despite her better judgement.

"Hermione," she said. "That's my name."

Marwick nodded. He looked happy, which was strange. "I knew -," he began, but then quickly seemed to change tack, saying instead, "…it's a fine name."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him questioningly, but before she could say anything, Yaxley started hollering for people to gather round 'now that everyone had stopped trying to kill one another.'

The training went off exactly as it had the day before. Namely, Hermione threw herself to the ground repeatedly, crying out and screaming horribly as if in real pain whilst Marwick pretended to curse her. Hermione should have felt grateful, but she didn't. As people cried and screamed and died around her, all she felt like was a fraud who had no right getting off so easy. She almost wanted Marwick to hurt her just so she could be with them in their pain.

When the training was finally over, the tears in Hermione's eyes weren't there for show. They were very real.

Some people got back up to their feet shakily, but many more didn't - and never would again.

Hermione was angry. She wanted to scream in Marwick's face, 'Why? Why save me? Why am I so special?' She'd out him and then fall into the hands of a Death Eater who would actually curse her, maybe even kill her. At least that way the gnawing guilt might go away.

But she didn't do any of that. Because she was a coward and afraid of being hurt.

Hermione left the hall with her head down.

_She was lying on her back - that much she knew. Experimentally, Hermione opened her eyes, but her vision swam horribly, so she closed them again. She groaned - everything ached. Slowly she became aware of the dried leaves beneath her and the coldness of the forest floor - and then - something else, someone was crying. _

_Her eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly. _

_Ron was lying no more than a few feet from her and he was convulsing hideously. Leaves shook and crinkled beneath him, painted red with the blood that ran down from his shoulder. Or at least the place where his shoulder should have been - now it was nothing but a raw, bloody wound and his actual arm was hanging on by a thread of muscle. _

_Hermione shot to her feet, rushing over, before dropping heavily next to him. She stared at his arm, blinking rapidly, panic sending her heart into frenzy of heavy thumping. _

"_Ssh, ssh Ron," she croaked, stroking a strand of hair from his eyes. "It's ok. It's ok." _

"_Hermione -" uttered a voice. It seemed to tremble as much as her own. _

_She looked up, finding Harry. "Harry," she said quickly. "Go to my bag. In there is a bottle labelled Essence of Dittany. Get it." _

_Harry rushed off and Hermione continued to say soothing things, eyes watering, pulse thudding. She couldn't panic. She couldn't. She would save Ron. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. _

_It would be. _

"_Quickly!" she snapped at Harry. _

_His hands shook terribly as he grabbed his wand, pointed it at the bag and cried, "Accio Dittany!" The tiny, purple bottle shot out obediently and Harry grabbed it in mid-air. _

"_Un-stopper it," she said. "My - my hands are shaking too much." _

_Harry's hands seemed to be little better, but he managed to get the stopper off and handed the bottle to Hermione. _

"_Ok," she said, voice trembling. "Ok. This will sting a little bit Ron." She started to drip tiny droplets of the potion onto Ron's mangled arm. _

"_I thought we were going back to Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked after a beat. His eyes were trained on Ron. He looked terrified. _

_Hermione was about to answer. She knew the words well - as an actress knows her lines, but something was wrong. Ron's wound wasn't healing as it should. She continued to drip the liquid. She dripped until the potion was all gone but it was having no effect. _

_She stared in terror, heart seeming to stop as she realised there was nothing else she could do. _

"_Hermione?" questioned Harry. "What's wrong? Why isn't it working?" _

"_I - I don't know," stammered Hermione. _

_Ron's convulsions suddenly became fierce and Hermione pressed her hands against his chest. They were covered in blood. Ron's blood. Her friend was dying before her and she helpless - _

_And suddenly the scene changed, and there she was again - sitting on that picnic blanket next to the Black Lake. The shift seemed to cause Hermione little problems, and she instantly felt relaxed with the blue sky above her. _

"…_so I guess I must have done something, but I don't know what," said Harry, finishing his story of how he had inadvertently hurt Parvati Patil's feelings. _

"_I don't know mate," said Ron, who was lying on his back staring up at the sky. More than a few scrunched up clingfilm balls were scattered about. These previously contained sandwiches, most of which were now in Ron's stomach. "Women are bloody mental."_

_Next to him, Hermione let out a rather unladylike snort. _

_Ron craned his neck towards her, squinting through the sunlight. "Well you're not exactly sane, are you?" _

_Hermione scowled good-naturedly at him and sighed. "It all comes down to the tone you use and the way you word things Harry," she informed wisely. _

"_Tone?" mumbled Ron. "So you're saying that I could tell a girl that it looked like she'd been through a hedge backwards and then had a fight with the hedge - and lost - and that would be ok as long as I say it in a happy way?" _

_Hermione clucked her tongue irritably. "No Ron, what I'm trying to say is that it should have been handled more delicately. And it never hurts to blame yourself. Maybe then Parvati wouldn't have thought you were calling her fat." _

"_But I wasn't calling her fat!" said Harry, sounding exasperated. _

"_Oh Harry," laughed Hermione, shaking her head. _

"_I will never understand women," mumbled Harry. _

"_Better off out of it mate," advised Ron. "Might keep your sanity a little longer that way." _

_And then, cutting through the tranquillity so harshly it actually hurt her ears, came a high pitched screech. _

_All three shot up and looked around. The noise seemed to be emulating from everywhere. Ron had covered his ears. _

"_What the ruddy hell is -" _

Hermione awoke from her subconscious with a start, instantly alert. There was a flurry of black cloaks in front of her eyes, and before Hermione was even properly aware of what was happening she'd been pulled to her feet and dragged from her cell.

In a panic, Hermione looked from left to right, taking in the Death Eaters on either side of her, each grabbing an arm in their vicelike grips. It seemed she had no choice but to follow.

_Please review if you have a moment. Good, bad, constructive - it's all good. _

_Next chapter coming sooooooon. :)_


	3. A Rude Awakening

Ello :) Well, here we go - been a while, but here's an update. Hope you all enjoy it and remember not to eat yellow snow...or something. …Enjoy!

Captivity_Chapter Three_A Rude Awakening

On and on she was dragged through halls and down flights of steps. The Death Eaters said nothing to her, and Hermione didn't dare say anything to them. She noted that they were moving down through the lower levels of the building.

She'd never been so far down before, but quickly decided that she didn't much like it as their way grew increasingly darker and the air staler.

They stopped suddenly and Hermione was thrown forwards through an open doorway. Unbalanced, she fell heavily to the stone floor. The Death Eaters who had brought her moved into the room and stood side by side, blocking the exit.

One cleared his throat importantly and announced, "We have brought the Mudblood as you requested, my Lord."

"As I see," hissed a voice.

Hermione froze. Still lying face down, she stared at the dusty stone floor, feeling her stomach lurch horribly. She knew that voice. She remembered from so many fateful months ago when it had demanded Harry Potter's life. She slowly turned her head, knowing, dreading who she'd see.

Voldermort stood mere feet away, Nagini slithering obediently at his feet. Fresh terror swept over Hermione as she realised that Bellatrix was also in the room, no more than a couple of feet from Voldermort. It appeared her arrival had interrupted their conversation. Voldermort sneered and pulled his wand from his robes, flicking it in her general direction. Hermione flinched, expecting pain, but instead she felt herself jerk upwards and hang, suspended in the air, facing them.

Bellatrix's eyes grew wide with sick delight at the sight of her. She licked her lips and moved towards Hermione. The vivid memory of that evening - of that torture, came to the forefront of Hermione's mind. Her heart began to pound and the very mark that Bellatrix had cut into her, that hideous scar on her arm that read 'mudblood' seemed to throb and itch beneath her bedraggled clothing.

Bellatrix, as if sensing this, ran a hand down the length of Hermione's arm and tugged up the sleeve. She stared in awe at her own handiwork and smoothed her finger over the badly healed skin. Hermione trembled.

"Oh dearie," cooed Bellatrix. "You're shaking. …Very afraid, are you?" She smirked cruelly, as if the thought pleased her. "I remember doing this," she said, continuing to stare at the scar. "Very nice. …That'll stay with you forever. You'll never get away from the filth that runs through you. Never, never. ...Your screams fill my dreams, Miss. Mudblood." At this, Bellatrix turned swiftly back towards Voldermort. "Let me, my Lord," she said pleadingly. "I shall interrogate her for you. I'll get the information you desire."

Voldermort smiled dangerously and Hermione noted with interest the way Bellatrix tensed in reaction. "While, as always, I appreciate your enthusiasm, Bella," he said silkily. "I'm afraid I must insist that I be the one to talk to the girl."

Bellatrix said nothing, but Hermione caught her expression as she turned back to her. She reminded Hermione of a faithful dog that had just been kicked and sent to bed without a treat.

"Pity that, sweetheart," spat Bellatrix.

"Leave us now, Bella," intoned Voldermort. There was an authority in his voice that instantly snapped Bellatrix to attention and quickly she fled, slamming the door shut as she left. The guards, having moved for her departure, resumed their positions in front of the door.

Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost.

"You'll excuse my lack of pleasantries, I'm sure," said Voldermort. "But you see – I'm having a rather terrible day." His eyes gleamed at the scar on her arm. She felt the self-conscious need to slide down her sleeve again, but her arms were locked to his sides. "I see that the marks of past torture still stain you," he continued, walking slowly towards her. "This does not have to be the case today…as long as you tell me the information I require."

"I've misplaced something you see…something extremely valuable to me, and I need you to help me find it. And you _will_ help me." He grinned horribly at her, displaying his strange, jagged teeth. Hermione couldn't imagine what he wanted – what she knew that he didn't. Surely after all the terror and the death he had everything he needed. Surely. "I'll get straight to the point," he continued briskly, sounding weirdly matter of fact. "Tell me where he is."

Hermione stared at Voldermort in confused terror. She was expected to answer? But she had no idea who he even meant! She hesitated, unsure what to say and Voldermort, clearly angered by this, gave a roar of fury and slashed downwards savagely with his wand.

Hermione cried out in surprise and pain as the action caused a deep cut to slice across her cheek. She felt the blood run and pool at her chin.

"Tell me!"

"I -"

Another slash and another cut to the other cheek.

"Tell me you miserable girl!"

"I don't know who you mean!" she cried.

He glared at her with his cold, slit eyes, wand arm poised in mid-strike. "You force me to explain myself?" he asked dangerously. His voice was almost a whisper.

Hermione shivered. "I don't know who you're talking about," she answered, quietly this time.

"You mock me and I allow you to live. Few could say the same."

There was a horrible pause.

Hermione held her breath. He was going to kill her. She was sure of it.

"I speak, as I'm sure you're well aware, of Harry Potter."

Hermione's world seemed to go hazy for a moment, Harry's name thumping through her head and distorting everything else. That vague hope that had existed within her for so long – the hope that Harry was alive – was suddenly overwhelming. She smiled, feeling the tears well. He was alive. Her best friend had made it. And he'd escaped Voldermort - again.

"Well?" muttered Voldermort, twirling The Elder Wand casually between his fingers. Hermione watched it spin. It was a wand that had caused so many to lose their lives – people she had once known and had once called friends.

"I don't know where he is," she said suddenly, sounding so bizarrely happy about that fact that she even surprised herself. "I have no idea – and even if I did, I'd never tell you." She was grinning now – hugely. "Never."

Voldermort's expression, so expectant and arrogant before, had quickly contorted into something terrible and raging. "You…insignificant little parasite! You are nothing to me! I'll make you pay for this disobedience! - Crucio!"

Hermione's reality was suddenly pain – all consuming, awful pain. Thousands upon thousands of blades stabbing into every nerve and organ – that's what was happening. There was a piercing scream and it took Hermione many torturous moments to realise that it was coming from her. When she thought her mind would just explode from the agony, it vanished and Hermione's head slumped forwards against her invisible chains as she took huge, ragged gulps of air.

"Now then," said Voldermort, though Hermione barely caught the words beyond the ringing in her ears. It felt like her brain was screaming. When Hermione said nothing, Voldermort continued. "Trust that there are much worse things in this world than pain Miss. Granger. You have family, don't you?"

The threat hung in the air. Nagini had made her way up to Hermione and was now slithering like a long, thin shark in circles beneath her.

"Please," she gasped. "Please. I don't know. I really don't know where Harry is. I swear it."

"You continue to lie to me -"

"I'm not lying!"

His eyes flashed and she winced. "Well," he said, "We'll just see, shall we?" Hermione stared at him, terrified and suddenly cried out as she felt the weakened barriers of her mind being torn apart. He was in her head.

Images flashed by her – only a few discernable in the blur of memories; herself and Harry dressed in their Hogwarts robes, laughing and joking about the supposed relationship between Madame Pince and Filch after having been rudely ejected from the library; she and Harry riding on the back of Buckbeak; forming the DA; Harry comforting her after seeing Ron in the arms of Lavender Brown – NO. She wouldn't let him see that – she wouldn't!

Hermione slowly became aware of her heavy breathing and the sweat on her brow as her world regained focus. Voldermort was glaring furiously at her. Had she done it? Had she forced him from her mind?

"You s-see?" she asked, voice trembling terribly. "I don't know. All you could find were old memories, couldn't you?"

"It matters little," said Voldermort, whose rage seemed to have subsided instantly. "Fortunately enough – you can still be useful to me." He walked over to the two Death Eaters standing guard and continued, "For Harry Potter has a disgusting weakness and, in the end, he will show himself. You, Miss. Granger, shall be his downfall. Remember that." He glared at her for a moment longer, before snapping at his guards, "Make sure she doesn't die – not while she still has some use."

No one visited her cell for over a week. Hermione assumed this was punishment for 'withholding information,' which was awfully unfair considering she didn't actually know anything in the first place. True to his word, Voldermort wouldn't allow her to just rot away however. The grimy tin bowl that acted as her water container magically refilled itself every couple of days, so that, as long as she was sensible, she always had fresh water. The same couldn't be said for food. Hermione had read somewhere that it took a person approximately three weeks to die of starvation. But as her stomach roared and ached, she had to wonder if that was a gross exaggeration.

To keep her mind away from her desperate hunger, Hermione spent the first few days thinking of Harry, delirious in the very idea that he was alive somewhere. She had held on to such a hope for so long - to have it confirmed was nothing short of a miracle. As long as Harry was alive there was still something to strive for. They could still turn their situation around. And if Harry was alive, perhaps Ron would be too. It was more than she should dare to imagine, but imagine she did, and soon her fantasies had become quite vivid - ones where she, Harry and Ron all escaped that terrible place and went on to live free, happy lives. She and Ron would marry, she'd see her parents again - and the Weasley's, and The Burrow - and everything else she so deeply missed.

The nights were the hardest. Her dreams varied from lovely idyllic scenes by the lake to much darker ones. She often had that dream where Ron had been grotesquely splinched and no matter what she tried she just couldn't save him. Sometimes he'd die in her bloodied arms - his cold, horribly dead eyes staring up at her, and sometimes she'd jolt awake before he could die. Such dreams gave way to cynicism. And by the end of that long week, the hunger and nightmares had taken their toll and Hermione wasn't so optimistic anymore, her thoughts had turned negative and doubtful. Sure Harry was alive now, but how much longer could he possibly evade it? Every Death Eater in Great Britain had to be looking for him. It would only be a matter of time. And then what? Hermione would be left with nothing again.

And Ron…

Thinking of him made her heart constrict. Flashes of the battle, of the castle wall exploding, Ron's lower body covered in its rumble, much too heavy to lift, much too much to move with a single wand flick - and there was no time, the Death Eaters had been coming, he had yelled for her to run, but how could she leave him?

She felt the tears slide down her cheek before she even realised she had started crying. She should have done more, she thought. She should have saved him.

Just then, the door to her cell squeaked open for the first time in what felt like forever. Hermione, having been snapped out from her self-destruction, looked up, quickly brushing at her damp eyes. She was more than a little surprised to see Marwick enter, balancing a bowl in one hand and shutting the door with the other. She had hoped she might see him again.

"I was ordered to bring you food today," he said, in answer to her questioning gaze. "Well, actually someone else was, but he was mumbling about it a lot, so I volunteered on his behalf." He lowered himself to his knees in front of her. "It's not the best thing ever," he continued, trying and failing to hide a grimace as the grey, tar-like substance bubbled thickly in its bowl. "But at least it smells, uh…nutritious?"

He smiled kindly as he handed it to her. Hermione hesitated, trying to ignore her stomach roaring like a banshee, for she did not know how to take this man, or if she was right to trust him. Hermione found herself very confused around this Death Eater who smiled and joked with her.

"Are you going to take this then?" he asked. "Cause' if I hold it for much longer I might just be tempted…" Though his upturned nose suggested otherwise.

"Hmm, yes, you really do look like you're resisting the urge to just devour that in one bite," said Hermione dryly, finally accepting the bowl and slowly starting to eat. It tasted awful, but it was food and she was very grateful for anything.

"I'm really sorry that there's nothing better," he said. "If it were up to me…" The line trailed off and he looked around behind him, through the bars.

For a long time they did nothing but watch one another. Every now and then Marwick would turn his head, checking the hall. The action made Hermione nervous. Was he waiting for something? He was still smiling, which Hermione didn't understand. As she didn't understand so many other things about this strange man. Hermione wondered if he was going to sit in there with her forever. And then wondered if this as all some kind of test. She remained silent, but fidgeted uncomfortably. Why was he staring at her like that?

"You've been cut," he said suddenly.

Hermione subconsciously touched the scar on her cheek. She had so many scars. She swallowed her food. "Yes," she said. "That was my fault."

"It was?" asked Marwick. He seemed genuinely concerned.

"I didn't know information that Voldermort wanted." She glanced at him. Would he punish her for using the Dark Lord's name in such mockery?

Apparently not. Marwick merely nodded, his lips a thin line against his teeth.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, thinking. "He was looking for someone. But I didn't know where they were. I didn't even know they were alive." Hermione saw Marwick close his eyes, noticed the way he winced. She took a deep breath. She would take the plunge - and if she was wrong? Well, at least she would know. "I don't understand you," she said.

He looked up sharply.

"You're not like any Death Eater I've ever known."

He nodded again. "I...owe you an explanation, Hermione."

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